


And He Holds My Body In His Arms

by Lif61 (UltimateFandomTrash)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: (happens after story ends), Angst, Bellamy's death non "on-screen", Death, F/M, Hugging, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kissing, Love Confessions, Murder-Suicide, POV Clarke Griffin, SUFFER WITH ME, Season/Series 04, Sort Of, forgot the hugging tag, i didn't want to, it hurts, it's important, it's just pain, suicide threat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22874848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateFandomTrash/pseuds/Lif61
Summary: Clarke doesn't want to die by radiation, and doesn't want Bellamy to watch such a death, and she can't watch him die. Clarke begs him to do something about it, to kill her before the death wave can. In their last moments they share their feelings for each other. (AU where the nightlbood didn't work against radiation, and Clarke and Bellamy both got left on the ground for Praimfaya.)
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	And He Holds My Body In His Arms

**Author's Note:**

> I literally meant to be writing another fic, but I was listening to music and "Murder Song" came on in my playlist, and this immediately popped into my head. I'm so sorry. I love them. Join me in suffering. This hurts.

_Five, four, three, two, one_  
_Five, four, three, two, one_

_He holds the gun_  
_Against my head_  
_I close my eyes_  
_And bang, I am dead_  
_I know he knows_  
_That’s he’s killing me for mercy_  
_And here I go_

_And he holds my body in his arms_  
_He didn’t mean to do no harm_  
_And he holds me tight_  
_Oh, he did it all to spare me_  
_From the awful things in life that comes_  
_And he cries and cries_

“Clarke, don’t make me do this.”

Clarke was holding Bellamy tightly, and her hands ran over his chest, his face. She forced him to look at her with those sad, brown eyes.

“Bellamy, you have to,” she begged, nodding. He shook his head. “Please. The tests didn’t work. I’m a _natblida_ , but…” Tears rolled down her cheeks, and Bellamy pulled her into a hug. She rested her head against his warm, strong chest, closing her eyes, crying as she listened to his heartbeat. “We’re gonna die. We’re out of time. The others made it into space, that’s what matters.”

“Clarke, I can’t do this.”

Clarke reached behind Bellamy, feeling the gun tucked into his waistband. Her other hand was pressed intimately against his back. But she pulled back now, taking the gun with her. Though she didn’t think she could do it, _knowing_ she couldn’t, she held it to her head now.

“Don’t make me do this.”

“You’re not gonna kill yourself.”

She sobbed, lowering the gun.

“Then what option do we have? You kill me, or you watch the radiation _burn_ me. And I can't watch it burn you. I can't.”

Bellamy was shaking his head. He walked away, running a hand over his mouth, but then he was back, hands running up and down her arms.

“So you want me to watch you die? I can’t do that. It’ll make me want to die next.”

Clarke pressed the gun towards him, barrel facing to the side. It was up against his abdomen. He shuddered from the object’s touch. Clarke could barely see him now, face so tear-streaked, eyes filled with them. Bellamy must have been the same. But at least they cleared some of the dirt and ash on his face, and if she blinked enough she could see his many, wonderful freckles on his tan skin.

“That’s the point! I will _not_ allow you to suffer the radiation. But first—”

“No!”

“Please…”

“No, Clarke! You don’t understand. You don’t…”

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers. His eyes squeezed shut, and his tears fell onto her face.

“Oh god, Clarke, you don’t understand. I… I…

She nodded. “Me too.”

And then she relinquished one hand from the gun, hand going to the back of his head, his hair that was somehow still fluffy despite how dirty and oily it was. She pulled him down into a kiss. It was far from gentle. Clarke didn’t know how to be gentle, not when every second something was trying to kill her, threatening her survival. Not when she hurt, and ached, and missed those she’d lost. Not when she realized this would be it.

Bellamy held her face, and kissed her back, lips as urgent as hers. It was a sloppy kiss, painful, almost. They bumped teeth a few times, and they kept trying to suck and bite the other, not ready to let go. Not wanting to ever let go.

Clarke took one of Bellamy’s hands, lowering it. She intertwined their fingers. Their bodies pressed together, even with the gun between them, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she was home.

Clarke pressed the gun into his hand.

Bellamy pulled back, a sob escaping his lips, even as saliva trailed between their mouths for a few seconds before dripping down onto their chins.

Bellamy hugged her, tight, his love pouring through in the way he held her just as it always had. Clarke did the same, arms going up to wrap around him, holding onto his shoulders, nails digging into the ratty fabric of his shirt.

“There has to be another way,” he said. “Another… Another gun. So we can go out together. Something.”

“There isn’t,” Clarke told him, her voice a harsh squeak, almost mute with emotion.

“Then let me at least say it first. Clarke, I—”

“I know,” she told him, caressing his cheek. “I know.”

He shook his head. “No, no. That’s not enough. Clarke, I… Clarke, _I love you_.”

Her lips quivered, she whimpered. They were both breathing hard now, holding in hitched sobs that sometimes still escaped.

“And I love _you._ ”

She wrapped his fingers tight around the gun.

“And that's why we have to do this. I don’t want to burn. I don’t, I can’t. I’m sorry, I’m so _scared!_ ”

“Me too.”

They held each other more. On the screen to their right, a map of the death wave, Praimfaya, decimated the Earth.

“I hope they’re safe in the bunker,” she told him.

“They are. Your mom, Kane, Octavia, Niylah, Miller, Jackson… They’re all safe. And I’m sure our family in space is too. Even Echo. She didn’t deserve your spot.”

“But she got it. We saved them, and they had to go. And your spot is empty.” Suddenly, overcome with emotion, realizing that he’d done this, that he’d decided to _die_ , Clarke started whacking his chest, screaming, “Why didn’t you go?! Why didn’t you take the spot?! You were supposed to… supposed to be safe! Bellamy, you’re such an _idiot!_ ”

Bellamy grabbed her wrist, dropping the gun in the process and lowered her to the ground till they were kneeling. He eventually sat, pulling her into his lap. She shuddered against him, wailing.

“An idiot for loving you?”

“An idiot for not _surviving_.”

Bellamy laughed, the sound heart-breaking. “I couldn’t survive without you, Princess.”

He stretched out his legs, cradling her with them, and then she heard a clattering sound. He was picking up the gun.

“If it’s any consolation,” he told her, Clarke opening her eyes to watch him handle the weapon. “I hate you for this too.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“I’m gonna die. Yes, you do.”

There was a click, and then the pistol was against her temple. Bellamy kissed the top of her head, his tears falling; Clarke could feel them wetting her hair.

“I guess it’s right I’m aiming it at your head, right?” he sobbed. “The heart and the head.”

Clarke pressed her hand over his heart.

“The heart and the head.”

All seemed too quiet, yet loud, blood pumping, adrenaline rushing through her, despair clouding her senses… yet the world was gone for her. There was just Bellamy, the thrumming beat of his heart, his heavy breathing, his cries.

“In peace, may you leave the shore. In love—in love, may you find the next.” Bellamy’s hand was shaking, the gun quivering hard, almost painfully against her skull. The metal was cold, cold enough to burn a hole in her. Clarke held on tightly, arms wrapping about his neck. Their bodies were pressed together, one in their final moments. Bellamy’s breath hitched, shoulders shaking, but he went on, voice deep, and filled to the brim with grief, regret, fear, “ _Safe passage on your travels, until our final journey to the ground._ ” The ground, what a heart-riven hellscape it’d turned out to be. But they were there, and together, they would find the next. “ _May… May we meet again._ ”

“May we meet again,” Clarke echoed.

A final tear fell, and she barely heard the sound of the gun as he squeezed the trigger. Clarke took in a sharp gasp, a weak cry coming out, and Bellamy held her.

That’s all she knew.

Bellamy was holding her.


End file.
